Sh-- [ Half-formed curses escaped his lips, before he stopped, watching and watching. Shit, he couldn't move, and with good reason. It took him a few, it honestly did. Sight was one thing, but sound was another, and he'd know that fucking voice anywhere. He'd worked with the guy for years, he'd been friends with the guy for ages, he'd--
Well, there were some things that weren't important.
He held himself to the wall, watching Bradbury (and it was Bradbury, he could tell even with the fucking hair) take down someone. Christ, if only he knew, and he hoped, and prayed that he didn't know who he was saving.
Better to be a good samaritan than shot by an ex-best friend when you figure out he's alive.
When had he become so callous?
Even though he couldn't do anything overt, he dropped to crouch at his ankles, holding his head with his hands. A frequent position he effected, when he needed to hide the dull glow in his face, the thing he couldn't escape, no matter how much plastic surgery he got to hide his scars.
He shut off the guns, with his head, no blood seeped, no burst vessels, just a sudden thought.
no subject
Well, there were some things that weren't important.
He held himself to the wall, watching Bradbury (and it was Bradbury, he could tell even with the fucking hair) take down someone. Christ, if only he knew, and he hoped, and prayed that he didn't know who he was saving.
Better to be a good samaritan than shot by an ex-best friend when you figure out he's alive.
When had he become so callous?
Even though he couldn't do anything overt, he dropped to crouch at his ankles, holding his head with his hands. A frequent position he effected, when he needed to hide the dull glow in his face, the thing he couldn't escape, no matter how much plastic surgery he got to hide his scars.
He shut off the guns, with his head, no blood seeped, no burst vessels, just a sudden thought.
He'd been around them for too long, perhaps. ]